


awful wonderful

by applecrumbledore



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecrumbledore/pseuds/applecrumbledore
Summary: Kakashi asked, “What would you say if I told you I was in love?”Pakkun raised his head from where it rested on Kakashi’s crossed ankles. “In love with who?” Kakashi didn’t look up from his book. He turned a page. After a moment, Pakkun put his head back down and closed his eyes. “That turtle of his is a stick in the mud, but other than that, I’ve got no complaints.”





	awful wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of kakagai fic is super silly and cute which makes a lot of sense and is great, but i wanted to try writing something more spicy and serious, so that's this. massive canon divergence post chapter 699 ish because there is very little about that ending i wanna keep. please don't bust my ass about what i kept or didn't keep.

It was raining on the day of Kakashi’s inauguration. It was the fourth straight day of rain and the crowds gathered under thick tarps, under a black sky in the middle of the afternoon, draped in rain ponchos. Kakashi was tired, and not just _tired_ tired but rubber-boned, fuzzy-teethed, weighing a thousand pounds. He woke up that morning after another restless sleep full of night terrors, peeled his eyes open and thought: _so it’s come to this_. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t anything, really—slightly honoured, slightly proud, slightly irritated, nervous, exhausted. It was doing what had to be done, and that's exactly what it felt like. He thought about his father and Obito and Rin, and what they'd think of him becoming leader of a village that had let them down in so many ways. He thought of Minato and Jiraiya, who had given the ultimate sacrifice for, in some ways, this. Then he rolled out of bed and washed his face.

Tsunade gave a speech about the passing on of leadership, exalting the Hokages who had come before her and wishing the best for those yet to come. She thanked the people for their support of her during her time in office and Kakashi stood next to her, vaguely embarrassed by the whole thing. He had specifically requested not to give much of a speech himself, and hoped he didn't have to. It was hard to stand in front of townspeople who had lost so much in so many wars and try to convince them that things would be different from here on out, regardless of whether he believed it was true.

Naruto and Sasuke stood together near the back and, with everyone facing forward, only Kakashi and those on either side of him could see Sasuke’s fingers snagged in the hem of Naruto’s shirt. Since Sasuke’s pardon, they had been attached at the hip in a way that no one wanted to address, but Kakashi had sat through enough meetings where he was the only one who could smell them on each other to know what was going on. He hadn’t said anything to them because it felt impossible to tell two boys who had been through everything together that _staying_ together would be just as difficult as what they'd already done, in a different way.

Gai spoke that evening at the reception that followed the inauguration.

It was an informal affair in a rented-out restaurant, raucous in a way that only a party in the months following war could be. Kakashi sat at a long table with Tsunade, Shizune, Shikamaru, Naruto and Gai, and after dinner the sake flowed and Kakashi hung his hat on the back of his chair. Shinobi he had grown up with approached the table almost shyly to give their congratulations and half-jokingly called him _Hokage-sama_ until he made it extremely clear that there was to be none of that; he took a volume of _Icha Icha_ out from inside his robe and said, “Trust me, nothing’s changed.”

The first person to give a speech was Naruto, who stood at his spot at the table and hit his glass of water with a chopstick so hard it cracked. His speech was partly sentimental but also obviously and unabashedly jealous, and he told Kakashi that he’d better be the best Hokage the village had ever seen, or else Naruto would come gunning for his job. Kakashi dared him to try and everyone laughed.

A minute after Naruto sat down, Gai stood and called for quiet much more delicately than Naruto had. He started, “As long as we’re doing speeches ...” and Kakashi started to sweat. He got half out of his seat.

“Gai, look—”

Gai gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t worry! I’ll keep it short, but sweet.”

Since they were kids, Kakashi had only gotten worse at telling Gai _no._ He slowly sat back down and Gai puffed out his chest and addressed the small room.

“As many of you know, I had the privilege of growing up alongside tonight’s guest of honour. From a young age, the two of us were inseparable, constantly trying to outdo each other in our never-ending quest for superiority.”

Kakashi resisted the urge to cover his face by downing the rest of his sake. Tsunade sniggered and poured him another cup without taking her eyes off Gai.

“I am exaggerating, of course,” Gai went on. “The truth is that I was primarily a thorn in Kakashi’s side, but I was a thorn that he endured. Just one of the many testaments to his strength and tolerance as a shinobi, and as a friend.”

Kakashi sat up a bit straighter. Gai’s eyes flicked to his, then away, and his smile was dazzling. He said, “There are very few people on this earth that I trust as deeply as I trust our new Hokage, and fewer still that I would place in charge of our beloved village. So many kind words have been spoken about Kakashi since his appointment, and since the end of this period of unspeakable violence in which we have been for far too long, so I am not sure what I can possibly add, but I’m going to try.” He turned to Kakashi at the other end of the table. “My eternal rival—it has been one of the premiere joys of my life to watch you transform from the curious, brooding youth whom I admired into the intelligent, powerful and truly kind man who sits before me today, whom I am proud to respect and adore.” He raised his sake cup and it looked comically small in his big hands. “To our Rokudaime.”

_Adore_. Kakashi turned the word over and over again in his head and tried to remember if Gai had said it before in all his flowery language about friendship. He couldn't. The room erupted in cheers and applause and the clinking of ceramic and Kakashi laughed. Gai sat and leaned his chair back on two legs to peer behind Tsunade and Shizune and Shikamaru at Kakashi, who told him, “You have a way with words.”

Gai winked at him. “My father once joked that I should be a poet, if being a shinobi did not pan out.”

Kakashi couldn't pinpoint exactly when the evening had become too much _,_ but it had. He snuck away into the wet night, too conspicuous in his hat and robe but unwilling to admit defeat by taking them off and carrying them. He knew he had to get used to the publicity, but no one said he had to do it right away. 

He meant to go back to the party after a moment of fresh air, so he climbed the stairs to his new, empty office and made his way to the desk in the dark and stood there. He tried not to think of how many generations of shinobi had stood there before him, or of the impossible length of time or duty or honour or any of that. Even inside, the days of rain had made the air heavy with peat and ozone. He closed his eyes, felt sake warm in the pit of his throat, inhaled, exhaled.

There was a loud bang and someone flicked the lights on.

_“Ka—”_

Kakashi whirled around and had a kunai in his hand before he could think about it. Gai stood in the doorway to his office with both his hands up. Kakashi dropped the kunai.

“God, you scared me.”

“Sorry! A thousand times, sorry!” Gai yelped. He closed the door behind him. “You looked tired when you left. I wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

“I’m fine, I’m coming back. Just wanted to get some air.”

“Ah, I’m sure. Such a wonderful night, that earthen scent in the air.”

“I was just thinking that.”

Gai wandered into the office, looking around; Kakashi leaned on the edge of his desk. Gai ran his fingertip along the top edge of two photo frames; Minato, Obito, Kakashi and Rin, next to Kakashi, Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura, recently transplanted from Kakashi’s apartment, where Gai had last seen them.

“It's nice,” he said. Kakashi looked at him. “The photographs, here.”

“I didn't think about it,” Kakashi said. “With all this pencil-pushing, I'll be here more than at home.”

“It's exactly that kind of upfront and genuine attitude that makes me think you’ll be a wonderful Hokage.”

Kakashi looked at the photos and, like always, it struck him how much his student’s faces had changed. Grief, trauma and violence had ensured that none of them would have the young, unlined faces of teenagers ever again. Kakashi refused to think about how his own face and body had been ravaged by war, because it wasn't as important. He didn't say anything because Gai knew him well enough to not need a response. He knew Gai, too. Gai was wearing a traditional jounin’s uniform for the occasion and Kakashi wondered whose benefit it was for. It was strange to see the most extraordinary person he knew wearing something so ordinary.

“Adore,” he said suddenly. Gai turned to him.

“Pardon?”

“In your toast earlier, you said _adore._ Were you just being …” He made an aimless motion with his hand. “You?”

When Gai didn’t say anything, not at first, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. He watched Gai struggle with a response, his head bent; he'd aged, too, his face becoming more angular with every passing year, flecks of premature grey in his thick hair. He wore it well.

“Yes,” he said finally, then paused. “Or, no. That depends on what you mean, _being me.”_

“I mean … You know. Overcome with emotion, or however you’d put it. Or did you mean ...”

Gai scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. He didn’t joke or gesture wildly or yell, and Kakashi’s heart rate spiked. Years of simple touches and looks coming to fruition.

“I meant _adore_ ,” Gai said quietly, looking dead at Kakashi, who looked away. “I—for so long, I’ve wanted to tell you the depth of my feelings, and how ardently I—” He laughed. “It's funny how even now, it's difficult to—”

Kakashi heard himself say, “Gai, please. I know.”

“You—how?”

“I think everyone from here to Sunagakure knows.”

Gai said, "Oh," and the following silence was long and heavy. He plucked at his flak jacket. “You don't have to tell me twice. I understand. If you were to return my feelings you would have surely said something, if you’ve always known, because you're brimming with confidence, so I’m not _surprised_ , exactly. Maybe a little. I wish I had done things differently, but as it is now, I can’t insult you by trying to change your mind, although don’t think I’ll—”

“No,” Kakashi said, looking down. “It's not that.” 

“What isn't it?”

“I’m not …” He grimaced, more at himself than anything. “Brimming with confidence.”

“You're my greatest rival, I—”

“I didn't think they'd make me Hokage so soon,” Kakashi said, and Gai went still. “Or at all.”

For maybe the first time ever, Gai said nothing. Kakashi went on.

“It’s a public role. More so than anything I’ve done before. I told myself …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I told myself that if we both survived all this, I’d go for it. But now there are other factors.”

Even without looking directly at him, he could feel the wonder radiating off Gai in waves.

_“Go for it,”_ Gai repeated, breathless.

“Yeah.” Kakashi looked up and he swore he could see Gai’s heart beating through his shirt. “C’mon, Gai. You _knew_.”

“I … hoped.”

“You hoped right.”

“All this time …”

“You know I don’t like trouble.” Kakashi scuffed his foot against the floor, feeling about ten years old. “I didn’t know how to …”

“You could have said _anything!_ Anything at all, and I would have—”

“I know.” _Shhf, shhf._ “It’s awkward.”

“Hardly!”

“It’s not that easy. I’m still not … It’s not a good idea.”

“But you _do_ have feelings for me!”

“There are more important things to think about here besides _feelings.”_

“Nothing in the entire world is more important! If there’s love, everything else falls into place!”

Kakashi wished his palms didn’t sweat at the word _love._

“It’s not that simple,” he insisted. “You know what it’s like here, you know how people can be. It won’t be roses and hand-holding and moonlit walks on the beach.”

“It could be.”

“No, it couldn’t. You remember those two … Tsunade’s guards? The guys at the gate? Everyone always joked about them.”

“Izumo and Kotetsu? They’re wonderful men.”

“Sure, but have you seen them lately?”

Gai’s face crumbled. “No.”

“I don’t think they’re shinobi anymore. I don’t know. If they are, they’ve completely disappeared from public life. I’m not saying it’s anything, but it—it’s not easy. It won’t be easy, not for us or them or ...” He wanted to say _or Naruto_ , but it wasn’t his place. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Or anybody. Not now, anyways.”

Gai went quiet. Kakashi wondered if he had ever considered this before or if, in his blinding optimism, he had never thought about what it would mean, socially, for two high-profile male shinobi to be together. He hated to be the one to tell him.

Gai mumbled, “I cannot think of anything of less consequence in judging a person’s character than who they choose to love. It’s not a reflection of strength or merit or vivacity, it just _is_.”

“I know.”

“What a heartbreaking thought.”

“I’m sorry, Gai.”

Gai rubbed his eyes and then lowered his hands, hanging limply at his sides. He looked like a wind-up toy that had run out of spin and Kakashi’s chest ached in a way he wasn’t used to feeling.

“Really. I am.”

Gai said, “I know, my friend. It’s not you I’m angry with,” and he sounded as tired as Kakashi felt. He raked a hand through his hair and Kakashi watched him. “Is there any chance you will change your mind?”

“I don’t know,” Kakashi said, completely honest. “I have no idea.”

Gai sighed. He took a step closer, then another, until he was an arm’s length away. Kakashi searched his features—his long lashes and high cheekbones and full mouth, his healthy, tanned skin—for something. He wasn’t used to seeing Gai look _sad,_ not like this. Gai cried, but the absence of tears was more alarming.

Gai started, “May I …” and Kakashi had no idea what he was asking, but he nodded. Gai reached up, carefully lifted Kakashi’s hat off and set it on the desk next to them. He fluffed his hair up to its usual height. Then, without saying anything, he leaned down and kissed just underneath his right eye, where his skin was bare. He kissed his mask-covered cheek. He kissed his lips through his mask, just a closed-mouth press that was sweet and simple and over quick. He leaned back, still close.

“Apologies,” he whispered, and Kakashi shook his head.

“No need,” he said. He felt light-headed and unreal, his face numb, his hands heavy in his pockets. He stared at Gai’s mouth. “We should get back. I think Tsunade wanted to buy us a round.”

“Right.” Gai took a step back. He clearly wanted to say something, so Kakashi waited. Finally, he said, “Would it be possible to talk about this again?”

Kakashi wanted to say _I don’t think that’s a good idea_ because it wasn’t a good idea, and it hadn’t been a good idea for the past twenty years, either. But a lot of what Kakashi wanted wasn’t strictly a good idea.

“Sure,” he said. “Yeah.”

Gai brightened up a bit.

They didn’t see much of each other back in the restaurant; Kakashi was otherwise occupied and Gai was having a one-sided dango-eating contest with Shikamaru. If Tsunade noticed him acting different, she didn’t say anything. Naruto was drunk and happy and kept trying to lean on his newly-absent elbow at Kakashi’s side.

“He didn’t want to come,” Naruto was saying, “not that I think he’d be super welcome here, anyways. He’s been sleeping a lot. As in, constantly, like a baby cat. And he doesn’t wanna wear any of his old clothes ‘cause of, you know, the memories, so he’s been wearing my stuff. It doesn’t fit great but I don’t think he cares.”

“Cute,” Kakashi said, absent-mindedly touching his mouth.

“Right? That’s what I said. I don’t think he liked that, but he didn’t say anything. He doesn’t talk much. Not that he did before, either, but I think he just needs time, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, he says my bed sucks, but he’s—” Naruto paused, realizing what he’d given away. “Never mind.”

Kakashi wanted to tell him it would be okay, but he couldn’t lie; Naruto had Gai’s optimism and it broke his heart.

“Don’t worry too much,” he said slowly. “Just be careful.”

Naruto cocked his head. “With Sasuke?”

Kakashi shrugged. “With both of you.” He turned to look down the length of the table and caught Gai’s eye. His mouth was full of dango, but there was still something poignant about it.

The rain broke the next day and the sky was clear at sunrise. Kakashi knew he’d show up at his office a couple minutes later than the extremely early start time Tsunade had given him, but for him, it was good. If he couldn’t get away with being late as Hokage, the post wasn’t worth it. The streets came to life as shopkeepers banged their shutters up and rolled bins of their wares outside. Someone wearing bright orange was heading for him. At first, he thought it was Naruto wearing a hat, but at second glance, it was Sasuke. He waved and Sasuke slowed wordlessly to a halt in front of him. His neon t-shirt had what Kakashi believed was kanji for _to have the strength of a thousand common men_ emblazoned on the front, and his light cotton pants stopped short of his ankles. He was gaunt after years without peace or rest, no comfort, sleeping when he could and stuck in an endless cycle of fighting and recovering with no chance to build. The bandaged stump of his left arm was just visible below his shirt sleeve and his left eye was bandaged, too; Kakashi didn’t know if it was because of his injuries or to hide his Rinnegan, but either way, it looked uncomfortably familiar.

Sasuke said, “Kakashi,” and even after knowing the kid for so long and not being one to care about formalities in the first place, the missing _sensei_ suffix still caught Kakashi off guard.

“G’morning. You're out early.”

Sasuke held up a scrap of paper. Kakashi couldn't see what was written on it, but it was a list. His gut instinct was to say _Naru-chan’s got you running errands, eh,_ but Sasuke wasn't ready to be joked with yet, if he ever was. It hurt to even look at him, this husk of a young man that reminded him both of Obito and himself, and everything he wanted to say was over-dramatic— _I’m glad you have Naruto, I'm glad he has you. Take care of each other. How do you feel? What are you thinking? What are you going to do now?_ Sasuke puzzled him in a way that he’d given up trying to understand, except for the raw, awful parts of him that he understood too well. He’d rather have Naruto between them as a sunny translator.

“I hope you’re picking up more than instant ramen,” he said. “It works for him, but I think anyone else would croak after a week of that garbage.”

Sasuke made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, neither positive nor negative. Kakashi tried to picture the two of them living together in Naruto’s little apartment and he could hardly do it; cooking meals together, sitting at a table and sharing a bed after they’d blown each other’s arms off only months prior. It couldn’t be real.

“Well, be safe,” he said. Sasuke nodded and they passed each other. Later, from his office window, he saw him walking back in the direction he came from with a plastic grocery bag swinging from his fingers.

He lasted until noon before slipping out. He left his robe behind and made it to the forest just past the village wall without getting noticed and scrambled to the tallest tree he knew. He knew the path there from years of needing somewhere to hide, and he knew a branch near the top where he could feel the wind but it wouldn't sting, and it was wide enough that he could lie back without balancing and still see the sky.

He thought about the filing systems Tsunade had taught him, which tasks were Shizune’s responsibility and which were Shikamaru’s and which were his own, different types of reports that would be submitted and who he had to discuss each one with, which could be his decisions alone and which required consult. He thought about that split in his desk chair that dug into the backs of his legs and the leather worker in the west of the village who fixed his sandals that one time, whom he might call about the chair. He thought about Gai kissing him through his mask and how it felt to have him so close, how he didn't put his hands on him, he just leaned in without touching him like a shy teenaged boy.

He felt someone coming long before they scaled the tree. He cracked an eye open and looked at Gai, whose head blocked out the sun.

Gai said, “Are you working out of a treehouse now?”

He closed his eyes again. “I like being high up.”

“Not exactly professional, Hokage-sama.”

“Old habits die hard.” He breathed in deep, sun and bark and grass and Gai. “I wanted to get away.”

“Of course.” Gai sat cross-legged next to him. “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion.”

“Never,” Kakashi said, which was only a bit of a lie. That day, he didn’t mind. In the past, Gai had been infuriatingly hard to shake. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, which Gai had never been good at, and Kakashi was pleasantly surprised. He wondered guiltily if Gai was trying to impress him with his silence, and he wanted to tell him it was alright, but he did love the quiet.

Then Gai said, “I can't stop thinking about you,” and it was so level and so without bravado or jest  that Kakashi sat up.

“What?”

“I can't stop thinking about you,” Gai said again. “I understand that now may not be the right time for this, but I feel like you’re understating the gravity of this situation.”

“Gravity.”

“Yes. I don't know how I’m supposed to go about my day and not think about it. About how you … you’ve wanted me. For some time, maybe.” He looked up. “I assume. You never said, but we didn't talk for long. Let me know if we aren't on the same page.”

Kakashi scratched his head. “No. I … yeah. When you put it like that, it sounds …” He didn't know what it sounded like, _wanted._ Honest, terrifying, true.

Gai said, “I want to apologize for last night. I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking, it was disrespectful.”

“No, no, no, it was—fine.” He thought about it again, the feel of Gai’s lips through his mask, close and far and awful and wonderful. “I trust you, you know that.”

Gai glanced up. “You do?”

“Obviously.”

Kakashi knew what he had to do the second the word was out of his mouth. Wind whipped through Gai’s hair and from so high up nothing smelled like anything, just bark and air. Gai was just looking at him, unblinking, unmoving, full of adoration and skepticism and whatever else he had in him. Kakashi took a deep breath, hooked a finger in his mask and slowly pulled it down. The skin underneath was so rarely exposed to air that it was sensitive and paler than the triangle of skin around his right eye and the untanned skin around his left. Pakkun had seen his face years ago, and a couple of the other dogs; before that, his parents, and no one else had seen his face and known it was him. And now there was Gai. Gai, who was holding his breath.

“Oh,” Gai said, so quiet it was hardly a word, hardly anything. “I knew it.”

Kakashi had teeth like a dog. His upper and lower canines were so large that they were visible past his lips if he didn't think to cover them. His mother’s clan was distantly related to the Inuzuka and one of his only memories of her was reaching up and testing the pad of his tiny thumb against her sharp teeth. No one told him to cover his teeth, but he always had. He didn't file them down for fear that they would look even worse.

He said, “You knew it?”

“Your ninken.” Gai stared at his mouth. Kakashi’s pulse thundered. “Of course it crossed my mind.”

If anyone else had guessed right before, they'd never said it out loud. Only genin brought it up, well-meaning but tactless in their curiosity; adults knew not to ask, not after thirty years of him hiding.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Gai said.

“I wanted to.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

Gai had looked up, but his gaze kept flicking back down to his mouth. Kakashi parted his lips and his small, sharp teeth glinted in the light. He heard Gai inhale. He burned for something he hadn’t known in so, so long, and in the end it was him who leaned in, and Gai met him halfway. Gai had a full, soft mouth and the feeling of another’s lips on his cumbersome teeth was indescribably strange. Their teeth hit and the glassy sound of bone on bone rang in his ears. They tried again, careful, Gai tipping his head and pressing closer, opening his mouth, his hands sliding carefully up Kakashi’s neck to hold his bare jaw. It was dizzyingly intense, wet and crushing and slow, Gai’s tongue between his teeth and the tea tree smell of his skin.

They eased back and Gai reached up and touched one of Kakashi’s canines with his knuckle.

“Wonderful,” he breathed.

“They’re really not.”

“I like them.”

Kakashi pulled his lip back. Gai ran his finger down along the pointed end of another tooth; they weren’t especially sharp.

Kakashi said slowly, “You don’t … _like them_ like them, do you?”

Gai looked him in the eyes and said, “I would never lie to you. I find them extremely arousing,” his voice grave and serious, and Kakashi snorted. He covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed. When he looked up, Gai’s eyes were sparkling, bright and happy, and Kakashi patted him on the cheek.

“Only you,” he said, and meant it several different ways. Gai grinned.

“I have waited almost thirty years to see you smile, rival. Your smile reaches your eyes and that has been wonderful in the past, but … there’s really nothing like this,” he said, taking Kakashi’s chin in his fingers. “I could write sonnets.”

“Please don’t.”

Gai kissed him again. His eyes fell shut and he let the tension fall from his shoulders and drip from his limbs, and he kissed him back. It felt silly, it was _Gai,_ but he liked it. It was unfairly simple, neat and easy. It felt like what he imagined being a kid should have felt like.

“Our first kiss,” Gai said against his mouth, audibly giddy. He corrected, “Kisses.”

Kakashi curled his hands around the back of his neck. “There's no way we haven't kissed before.”

“We haven't!”

“Bullshit.”

“It's true!”

“Must have been my imagination,” Kakashi said, and Gai made a quiet, happy noise against his lips.

“You think about me?”

“Yeah.”

Gai kissed him slow and deep and slid his hands down to hold his ribs and pull him closer, ease him to lie back against the bark and settle over him. He wound his arms around Gai’s neck and breathed into his touch, letting his mind get syrupy and slow. Gai kissed with precision, undaunted by Kakashi’s teeth. Kakashi dug his hands into Gai’s thick arms as if they were the only thing keeping him from falling to the forest floor, which was partially true, and Gai cinched his thigh between his legs and pushed closer, closer, not exactly grinding but close enough that Kakashi wanted the earth to swallow him whole anyways.

Gai leaned back slowly, breathing hard. “What profound chemistry we have.”

Kakashi didn't like being speechless, he wanted to choose his moments of silence, but Gai was still all over him and he was still grabbing his arms and he had no idea what to say. _Chemistry_ was putting it lightly; his fingertips buzzed, his lips were raw, it felt like Gai had kissed the life out of him and sucked the air out of his lungs.

“Yeah,” is what he went with. Gai peeled himself off him and if he had even an ounce less pride, he would have grabbed for him, but he let him go.

“You should head back to work, Hokage-sama.”

“Can you not?”

“It’s delightful! You, a Hokage!” Gai was smiling like he’d never stop. “Plus, I know it bothers you.”

Kakashi pulled his legs up. “I don’t have to go. You’re not my boss.”

“How long have you been out here?”

“A couple hours.”

“You should go,” Gai said again. He looked down and flicked a wood bug off his knee. “I want you to know … I expect nothing. I know you haven't made up your mind, and a kiss isn't a contract.”

_Expect nothing_ stung in a weird way. “Right.”

“I just mean that I’m not a starry-eyed teenager. I am passionate, yet realistic.” 

“Right.”

“I thought a lot about what you said the other night, and you're right, it's not an easy decision. Far from it. Our little society does not bend for men like us.”

Kakashi pulled his mask up. “Unfortunately not.”

“But the extremely easy part of all this is the way I feel about you.” Kakashi looked up at him, thinking he'd continue, but he didn't. After a pause, he added, “Well, not that it changes the facts of life.”

The resignation in his tone was worrying. Gai was the dumbest smart guy Kakashi knew, moralistic, strong-headed to a fault, determined and unmoving. A tree of a human being. Maybe Kakashi had convinced him _too_ well, before he was ready to convince him of anything. Maybe he locked a door he never got a chance to open. While he was thinking about what to say, Gai pulled himself to his feet.

“Get back to work. You'll never learn to be diligent and studious if you keep running off.” He brushed flecks of bark off the backs of his legs. “Thank you for showing me your face. I can't even begin to tell you how stunningly beautiful you are.”

Kakashi opened his mouth to speak and Gai stepped backwards off the branch and dropped out of sight. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped as he fell lightly and carefully to the ground below.

Of all people, he never expected Maito Gai to consume his thoughts and walk around his brain like he owned the place. Gai was nice and kind and, outside of a fight, as harmless as a kitten in a sunbeam. Any time Kakashi had imagined being with Gai, it felt like settling down quietly and without a fuss. He thought it would involve some sort of compromise; it was always one he was prepared to make, but a compromise nonetheless. He didn’t imagine a searing kiss like that one in the treetops with Gai’s hands on his face, guiding him, taking him.

“At least _pretend_ that you’re listening to me,” Tsunade said. Kakashi dropped his pen.

“I’m listening.”

“I could see your eyes physically glazing over. You were a million miles away.” She tipped her chair next to his desk up on two legs. “Let’s call it quits for today. You’re not gonna retain anything if you’re daydreaming, and then I’ll have to come in and do it all again.”

“I’m retaining plenty.”

“Sure.”

Gai wasn't shy, he went on and on about passion and virility, but at the same time there was something about him that always seemed incredibly naive. The thought that whatever Gai felt for him wasn't a childish crush or a pissing contest was extremely, in Gai’s own words, grave.

Kakashi left his office and headed home. Assuming a public political role came with all the offers of dinner and drinks that he imagined it would, and remaining a recluse had become increasingly difficult, but he was determined; he knew which narrow streets to walk down, which was the shortest long way home. He’d resisted moving into the Hokage Residence so far, although he was still being pestered about it. For the time being, he kept his small apartment on the edge of town, which was somehow both sparse and messy all at once, without live-in dogs but smelling faintly of dog anyways. It was Western-style, one small room with a kitchen, a bathroom and a small, dark bedroom with venetian blinds. Laundry was heaped at the foot of his bed and he couldn’t tell what was dirty and what was clean. He toed his shoes off at the door, went to the bedroom and flopped onto his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, not exactly tired, but not full of energy. Apprehensive and quiet.

After a time, he pulled himself to his feet, changed into loose, light clothes, and went to the kitchen and made a sandwich. He read a few chapters of the novel he was on while he ate, and when he was done the sandwich he still sat there reading. The next time he looked up, an hour had passed. It was still bright out so late in summer but the sky was heavy with rain again.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about Gai and his book had gotten him all keyed up. It was after dinner, Gai might have been home. Gai called him beautiful and then stepped backwards off a tree bough fifty feet above the ground. Gai had seen his face. Gai kissed like he really, really meant it.

He was out the door before he thought too much about it. It was already spitting rain and the streets were clearing out. Gai lived in a small, traditional apartment near a green belt to the north of the village and Kakashi knew the way by heart. He climbed up the narrow fringes of wood and reed roofing to Gai’s window. Gai stood inside at his counter, pouring  tea into a stone mug. He had his jumpsuit tied down around his waist and he wore a mesh undershirt. He set his tea pot down and turned to Kakashi, unsurprised.

“I have a door. It’s a very nice door, with a handle and everything. You should try opening it sometime.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kakashi leaned his shoulder against the window frame. “Reminds me of my Anbu days. The good parts of them, anyways. Jumping around like some cat burglar in the night.”

“Of course! I joke. You know I appreciate the spontaneity of a good window entrance. Come in!”

Kakashi leapt neatly inside. Gai’s apartment smelled like the incense he habitually burned, which he said he did because it improved his circulation and mindfulness, but Kakashi knew it was because his father had always burned it. It was dark and cool, just a half-sized gas stove, low table, closet for his futon, chest for his belongings and not much else. Houseplants sat in little clay pots on top of the fridge and big clay pots on the tatami floor.

Gai said, “It’s not night, though. Are you avoiding detection?”

“I don’t know. People keep wanting to talk to me, it’s easier to take back roads.” Kakashi leaned on the wall by the window and kept flicking his gaze down to Gai’s nearly-bare chest. He wanted to catch his nails in the mesh. “What are you up to?”

“Just sitting down for tea. Join me?”

“Sure.”

Gai poured him a cup of tea and he watched the muscles in his shoulders as he moved.

“You’re tense.” Gai spoke without turning around. “I assume this is about earlier, then.”

_Earlier._ It was about the past twenty years.

“I guess so.”

Gai turned around with Kakashi’s cup of tea, which he handed to him. The hot stone stung his hands, but if Gai could handle it, so could he.

Gai said, “I’ve never known you to be uncertain about anything, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned.”

Kakashi met his gaze. He wanted to say that he had feelings but he didn't know how to show them, he didn't know how to keep everyone safe and still get what he wanted, so the things he wanted always fell to the side, but he wanted Gai. Some days he wanted him so bad that he wanted to crack his chest open and hide safe in his body and never feel an ounce of fear or stress or longing or obligation for as long as he lived because he knew Gai would protect him, he wanted to take him and be with him and let everything else fall in around _that_ , for a change.

“I’m plenty uncertain,” he said instead, “I just keep quiet about it.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I know. It’s just embarrassing.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“If I knew how to make it _not_ embarrassing, trust me, I would.” 

Gai sighed. “Are you … worried that if this passion between us goes south, you might lose your post as Hokage and be unable to help Konoha? Or are you worried you'll lose _me_?”

Kakashi was glad that he had enough of his face covered to hide his burning cheeks. He set his cup on the window sill. “Both.”

Gai laughed. “Kakashi. I can't speak for our fellow citizens, but I can tell you for certain that expecting the best from people has never steered me wrong. And as for me …” Kakashi watched Gai’s feet step forward and he felt a hand threading gently through his hair. “You’ve been trying to get rid of me your whole life. I promise you’ll never succeed.”

Kakashi stared down at Gai’s chest. “I never tried _hard_.”

“No, but you know what I mean. It is not in my nature to give up.”

Kakashi looked up. Gai was so close and so sweet and kinder than he had any right to be when Kakashi was determined to sulk, and Kakashi pulled his mask down, leaned in and kissed him. It was just like the first time; heat licked at his belly even from such a simple kiss, not in spite of it being with Gai but _because_ it was, and this thought shocked him into stillness. Gai slid his hand through his hair to cup his neck and Kakashi touched his arms, closed his eyes, and they stood there in the middle of Gai’s apartment, kissing so quiet and smooth like nothing had ever been easier. When they pulled back, Kakashi kept his eyes shut and Gai laughed at him.

“You like me,” he said quietly, his voice reverent and soft, and Kakashi kept his eyes closed.

“Something like that.”

Gai took his face in his hands and kissed him and kissed him like he was something to explore, not a challenge but an invitation, an uncharted coastline, an open door. Gai stepped forward until Kakashi’s back hit the wall by the window and he pressed his whole body against him, crowding him in with his big arms. Gai was a few centimetres taller and Kakashi had to tip his chin up, or at least stand up straight. His face was burning and Gai’s fingers on his jaw opened his mouth wider and it was searing, heady and all-consuming.

He broke the kiss, turned around and peered out the window. “Does this thing shut, or—”

He froze when Gai wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“I knew you read those books of yours and I was consumed by the thought of what it would be like to be intimate with you.” Gai pressed his face against the back of his neck. “To feel the grip of your hands and the heat of your body and your manhood.”

Kakashi didn’t know what to do with his hands. He looked down at Gai’s bare arms folded around his middle and gingerly touched them. “Don’t say _manhood_. God.”

“It is what it is.” Gai slid his palms down Kakashi’s belly. “To think that you knew how I felt, all these years …”

“Sometimes it killed me,” Kakashi mumbled. “I knew you’d let me if I asked, and I wanted to. But I wasn’t going to do that to you if I wasn’t ready to … stick around.”

“And you're ready now?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He tipped his head back onto Gai’s shoulder. “We’re getting old, Gai. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Gai shuddered. He slipped his fingers just past the waistband of Kakashi’s sweats and stopped. “If you think thirty is old, you’re going about this all wrong.” He brushed his lips under his ear. “In the grand scheme of life, we’re just getting started.”

Kakashi closed his eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Gai didn't move his hands. Kakashi hardly breathed. The window was open in front of them and a few people walked down the dusk-dark alley below. He realized that Gai, not shy but a gentleman, was waiting for his permission. Kakashi squeezed his eyes shut, covered Gai’s hand with his and pushed it lower. He was already hard. Gai curled into him, curled his fingers around him and didn’t say anything at all. It felt absurd and Kakashi didn’t know why; maybe it was nerves, tension, anticipation, Gai, the two of them standing there with one of Gai’s hands down his pants, the other clutching almost desperately at his ribs as if to hold him there, like there was anywhere else he’d rather be. He could feel him shudder behind him as jerked him off, plastered to his back, could feel him hard against the cleft of his ass. He hung his head and Gai kissed his nape. He grabbed the window sill, not sure what else to do with his hands. Gai moved his fist embarrassingly slow, as if he were wringing the slow, sharp breaths out of Kakashi’s lungs.

Kakashi whispered, “Has anyone ever told you you're a tease?”

He could feel the heat of Gai’s laughter on his skin and his stomach dropped with a very, very good kind of apprehension.

“I’m _patient_.” Gai squeezed him hard and he pushed involuntarily back into him. “We’re not kids, Kakashi. This isn't a messy tryst behind the academy. I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“I’m gonna throttle you.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Kakashi turned around. Gai detangled himself from him and when Kakashi looked up at him he was flushed across his cheeks and smiling so, so wide.

He said, “Is this going well?” and Kakashi kissed him so hard he stumbled backwards. Kakashi pulled his mesh undershirt up and over his head and yanked at the impossible knot of sleeves he tied his jumpsuit in until Gai batted his hands away and untied them himself.

“You’re much less poised when you’re excited,” Gai laughed against his mouth, and Kakashi bit him, which only made him laugh more. Gai’s futon was laid out neatly in the far corner of the room and Kakashi walked him back to it, kissing him and trying to get his jumpsuit down around his thighs. There was a kind of playful boy-wrestling to the way they manhandled each other to the mattress, Kakashi trying to pin Gai’s wrists and Gai twisting his hands and slipping out every time, until he didn’t, and he let Kakashi straddle him and hold his arms down and hang over him, out of breath and smiling faintly. Gai lifted his hips and Kakashi slid against him and shuddered.

“Here.” Gai tried to raise his hands and Kakashi let him. He sat up and kept Kakashi in his lap and lifted his billowy t-shirt over his head, then peeled off the sleeveless shirt he wore underneath that was part of his mask. Without his mask or uniform, if it weren’t for the scars, he could have been anymore. He was trying to cover his teeth. Gai kissed the centre of his chest and he slowly ran his hands across Gai’s bare, stooped shoulders, over the generous curves and valleys of muscle absent from his own.

“Wait,” he said, and lifted himself off Gai, turned and lied down, then pulled Gai into a kiss. He shifted until he was under him and Gai hooked his thumbs in his sweats and pulled them down, then his briefs. He lovingly unwound the wraps from Kakashi’s feet and hands and Kakashi watched him, struck dumb. He kicked his jumpsuit off and Kakashi _stared._ Gai looked down, then at Kakashi, and smiled. Kakashi pinched his thigh, and not playfully, but he hardly flinched.

“Don't say it.”

Gai’s smile blossomed into a grin. “That's one-hundred-twenty-four to …?”

“I _said_ —”

Gai kissed him and Kakashi nipped at his lip. “Well, you're taller than me.”

“That's not how it works and you know it.”

“You're bigger than me everywhere else, anyways. That’s just nature. I’m … svelte.” Kakashi wound his arms around his neck. “Aerodynamic.”

“Is that what you want to call it?”

“I’d like to, yes.”

“We can do that.”

Gai went quiet after that and it was funny to see him so serious. He didn’t speak unless spoken to, too focused, working his way down Kakashi’s body slower than anything. His lips followed his fingers and even when he took him in his mouth, his hands pressed at the crux of Kakashi’s thighs to keep him from bucking up, he moved torturously slow. The only sounds in the room were Kakashi’s ragged breath, the shifting of the futon on the tatami mats when he dug his heels in and the wet sucking of Gai’s mouth.

Unthinking, Kakashi muttered, “God, I wish I could …” and Gai pulled off him to speak.

“Could what?”

“Well, you know.” Kakashi flicked his thumb against his teeth. “Complications.”

“You mean you’ve never performed oral.”

Kakashi dropped his arm over his eyes. “You say everything in the worst way possible.”

“Cunnilingus?”

_“Stop.”_

“Would you rather I say _head_?”

“I'd rather we not talk about this at all!”

Gai clicked his tongue. “You are an enigma. Always reading that filth in public, pretending to be so hip and uncaring, but look at you! Like a blushing bride!”

“Reading it and doing it are different,” Kakashi hissed, and Gai’s laughter boomed. He sucked him down again and Kakashi could feel him trying not to smile. He had no idea how much time passed because Gai stopped every time he got too close, then kept going; minutes, hours, it could have been a year for all he knew.

“Stop it,” he breathed, both his clammy hands threaded in Gai’s hair. “I know what you’re doing and _stop it.”_

With mirth in his tone, Gai said, “Not every competition is a race.”

“You win. I give up. One-twenty-five to one-twenty-three, you can take a two point lead, just let me come.”

“You can’t just give up!”

“Yes, I can.”

Gai spoke with his lips spit-wet on Kakashi’s skin. “Listen. I understand completely how a man like you can get so caught up in the details of the now. Mission, obligation, those things. They’re very important. But sometimes the mission is _you._ There’s absolutely nothing better than decadence and relaxation, when due.”

“Is this relaxation?”

“Somewhat.” He licked a slow stripe up the underside of Kakashi’s dick and his hands tightened in his hair. “In the way that pounding the earth until your body drops from exhaustion is relaxing.”

“Please let me give up.”

“Only if you truly mean it.”

Kakashi didn’t say anything and Gai laughed.

“There’s my rival.”

Kakashi put his hands over his face and said, “If you’re going to drag this out, you could at least fuck me,” and Gai’s head snapped up.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” he said from behind his hands.

Gai moved up his body and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe and when Kakashi made him stop, he got up, went to his chest of drawers and came back with a small bottle of something that he used to slick up his fingers. He slid his hand between his legs and worked him open. Kakashi buried his face in the crook of his neck so he didn’t have to look at him, so Gai couldn’t see him, and Gai didn’t say anything; their talk dropped to hushed single words, _wait, just, there, yeah,_ if anything at all. Gai’s body was burning hot pressed to his and his forearm flexed as his fingers moved inside him and it was clutching, desperate, intimate, overwhelming. He could feel him hard and wet against his thigh and he had hardly touched him, which was as humiliating as it was flattering.

He whispered, “Go for it,” with his throat dry, his nerves sparking. Gai dipped his head to catch his mouth and kiss him, and both of them went still until Gai braced himself above him, lined up and eased in. Kakashi buried his face again and dug his fingers into Gai’s back. Dull pain, breathlessness, the feeling of falling. Gai gasped. Kakashi closed his eyes. Gai spoke quietly, his mouth against his temple. 

“You feel …” He lost his words, then came back with, “ _breathtaking,”_ and Kakashi laughed.

“Only you,” he said again, and his breath hitched as Gai bottomed out. He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. They’d both done this before but it had never felt so raw and terrifying and new as it did then. Gai moved slow like he was being careful and Kakashi turned his head to hide his face and he both was and wasn’t embarrassed by how loud and unabashed Gai was. He raised one of his knees until Gai took it in his hand and pressed his thigh to his chest, and then he was _really_ loud.

Gai touched his lips to his cheek and stuttered, “I would have given _anything_ , plucked every star from the sky, snatched every fish from every stream and split every blade of grass just to—to—”

“No need for any stars,” Kakashi said, raking his fingers through Gai’s hair. “I’m a cheap date.”

Later, Kakashi would swear that Gai was a sap and came because of the unbearable fondness in his tone, but at the time, Gai started hammering into him and it was all he could do to drag his nails down his back and hold on. Gai’s bowed back shuddered as he came and a warm ripple of his chakra flowed through Kakashi’s body from his scalp to the tips of his toes, an indescribable feeling. Gai sat back, still inside him, and closed his fist around him. Kakashi covered his face with his arm and twisted away and Gai said, “Come for me,” like it was nothing at all, like they hadn't been waiting their whole lives. Kakashi bit his arm and bucked up and came and it was unbearable, perfect, exhausting. Chakra left him in a shockwave and he knew Gai felt it from his sharp inhale, he’d be lucky if the neighbours didn't feel it, but he'd been with people who had wild chakra reserves that winded him when they came; not often, but he had.

Gai dragged his fingers through the wet on his stomach. _“Lord.”_

Kakashi hadn't caught his breath. “Lie down.”

Gai pulled out and lied down next to him so close he could feel his heart racing against his arm. He grabbed Kakashi’s face, scrubbed his thumbs over his cheekbones and pulled him into a long, wet kiss.

Kakashi whispered, “I can't feel my face.” Gai laughed.

“Neither can I.”

Gai looked at him from inches away and it was like he was looking through him, that exact look that had terrified and thrilled Kakashi for their whole lives. Gai was permanently unfazed, unfooled by anything.

“Hi,” he said. Gai’s thumbs stroked his cheeks.

“Hello.” He hadn’t stopped smiling. “Are you alright?”

Kakashi nodded. Their legs were tangled and their laid on their sides towards one another. Gai’s dark eyes sparkled. He ran his thumb over Kakashi’s eyebrow and down the scar that bisected his eye and said, “I could do that a hundred more times, my love. A thousand.”

“Tonight?”

“I appreciate your ambition. We can certainly try. I think I have a couple more in me, at least.” Kakashi knew he wasn’t joking. Gai laughed. “What would you like to do while we recuperate? Are you hungry?”

Kakashi thought about it. “Yeah, actually.”

“Then let’s eat. Up.” Gai leapt up and Kakashi groaned and hauled himself to his feet. He went to the washroom to clean up, pull his boxers on and tie a beige bandana around his face, one he kept in his pocket most days. When he came out, Gai was slicing a watermelon on his kitchen counter with a massive knife, putting all his weight on it. He was still nude. Kakashi leaned his hip on the counter next to him and watched silently. Gai looked up.

“You like watermelon?”

“Mhhmm.”

“Good. It’s late, I thought, nothing too heavy.”

“Perfect.”

Gai sliced another wedge off with a loud _ka-chunk_ and handed it to Kakashi. He glanced at him again, then away. 

“The bandana?” Kakashi asked. Gai nodded. Kakashi shrugged and set the watermelon down to push the bandana back up into his hair so he could eat. “I wear it around the house. It’s uncomfortable to have nothing.”

“Of course. Sorry to pry.”

He added, “I mean, that’s not to say I’ll never want to walk around without it. Around you. Later.”

Gai raised his eyebrows. Kakashi dove into his watermelon to end the conversation and Gai laughed at him. He picked up his own watermelon wedge and tore a chunk off with his teeth. They ate in silence, Kakashi looking out the window at the last traces of light in the street below, Gai looking at Kakashi.

“It never did really rain,” Kakashi said. “Maybe tomorrow will be nice.”

With his mouth full and juice running down his chin, Gai said, “I thought that you would insist on dominating me, sexually.”

Kakashi choked. “What made you think that?”

He wiped his mouth the back of his hand. “You’re quite insecure in your masculinity.”

“I am _not.”_

“It’s alright! Many men are! Most of them, even. Your pasted-on aloof attitude, your inability to share your feelings, your embarrassment over all things sexual despite your avid consumption of those silly novels—”

“Hey!”

“—it’s all quite transparent. But I like you anyways, and it makes this a very pleasant surprise.” Gai leaned in and gave him a sticky kiss on the cheek before he could choke out anything else indignant, and he batted him away. “Men are capable of such great things when they cast off the shackles of traditional masculinity. I’m proud of you.”

Kakashi huffed, picked up another chunk of watermelon and bit a piece off.

“I don’t know, I didn’t think about it. Don’t read too much into it.”

Gai laughed again. “Classic Kakashi.”

Kakashi noisily sucked his teeth at him. Gai set his watermelon rind on the counter, leaned in and kissed him. 

“Sweet,” Gai said against his mouth. Kakashi slapped him with his watermelon wedge. “I like the way you taste.”

He dropped his watermelon on the counter and nudged Gai away from the counter, smiling. “C’mon. Bed.”

It was slower the second time. Gai laid on his belly with his arms folded under his pillow and Kakashi lined his back, his face buried in the crook of his neck. Again, his hands shook, and again, Gai said nothing, and Kakashi fucked him in long, slow strokes, drawn-out and desperately intimate. Gai found Kakashi’s hands and laced their fingers and almost crushed them when he came.

They laid there together like last time, the night fully dark, the apartment lit by a single lamp in the kitchen. Kakashi watched Gai, his black eyes boring into his own, quiet and contemplative, waiting. Gai’s skin shone rich and dark next to his own.

“How are you?” Kakashi asked.

“Glorious. And you, my love?”

“Something like that.”

Gai’s calf slid between his own. His hands were curled against his chest and his breath was sweet from earlier. The watermelon on the counter filled the apartment with the sickly, summery smell of overripe fruit.

“Does anyone know?” Kakashi asked. “About … you. Or me.”

“Lee,” Gai said softly. “That boy has such a big heart, he falls in love at the drop of a hat. He’s been a good foil to my … long-term yearning.”

“Long term.” Kakashi ran his index finger down the back of Gai’s hand and said, “Have you always, then?”

“Absolutely not. When we were children, my feelings for you were entirely pure. You were quite prickly. I longed to understand you, and I think—I think you represented something to me, you know, the elite, a boy with innate talent who _also_ trained hard, versus … me. It was difficult to see.”

“So you hated me.”

“Not at all. Having you as my rival truly did inspire me. I know I wouldn't be the powerful shinobi I am today if it weren’t for you. And I also got to know you.” He turned his hand over and Kakashi traced the life line in his palm. “You grew up wonderfully. I can’t say the exact moment I knew. I couldn’t tell whether I admired you as a shinobi, or valued the strength of our friendship, or wanted you as a man.”

“And?”

“It was all three,” Gai said, decidedly. “As it should be. My passion for you knows no bounds. In runs in every direction, like wild horses on the plains.”

Kakashi’s fingers traced the bones in the inside of his wrist, the veins running like rivers up his thick forearms.

Gai asked, “What about you? Since when did you know?”

“I don't know. When we were kids, you annoyed me,” Kakashi admitted, “a _lot_. But for better or worse, I was thinking about you, and that’s how I knew.”

“For so long?”

“Well, you remember being a teenager. Rampant hormones. Who knows anything?”

“I understand.”

There was a long silence. Kakashi thought Gai had nodded off and almost fell asleep himself listening to the soft beat of his breathing, but then Gai said, “We waited so long.”

“I know.” Kakashi kept his eyes shut. He wanted to apologize and didn't. He almost hoped Gai had fallen asleep by the time he spoke. “It’s not that I’m … ashamed of you. It’s me. I’m not great at, uh … getting close.”

“Kakashi. I know.” Gai fixed him with a tired, beautiful smile. “Every personal fact I have ever wrung out of you, it’s been through necessity, dumb luck or alcohol.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. A leopard can’t change his spots.”

“Maybe he should try harder.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“Well, it's not anyone else’s.”

Gai’s hand curled gently around his on the futon between them and Kakashi didn’t pull away. He thought of a thousand things to say and said none of them, and after a few minutes, they both fell asleep.

He crept out an hour before dawn, before Gai woke up. He left a scrawled note on the table, _had to go_ , _talk to you soon,_ signed with a henohenomoheji.

He felt out of sorts all day; not upset, but restless. He had what he referred to as a _feelings hangover:_ the sense of melancholy, regret and discomfort that followed opening up to someone. He wasn’t needed in the Hokage’s office and ambled home to shower off the sweat and watermelon and whatever else. He made lunch, then fell asleep in bed with his clothes on. At midday, he summoned Guruko, Bisuke and Pakkun to go for a walk with him, which they didn’t seem to mind. It was sunny and hot and they skirted the village wall and eventually left for the forest, where it was cooler and darker. None of them spoke, but Kakashi felt all three dogs watching him.

He picked a spot to sit and read, half in sun and half out, and kicked his shoes off. The dogs rolled around and hunted mice and eventually came to lie near him after an hour, happy and sated and bored.

Without looking up from his book, Kakashi asked, “What would you say if I told you I was in love?” to no dog in particular. Bisuke yawned. Pakkun raised his head from where it rested on Kakashi’s crossed ankles. All three dogs regarded him silently, blinking against the sun, and no one spoke.

“In love with who?” Pakkun finally asked. Kakashi didn’t look up. He turned a page. After a spell, Pakkun put his head back down and closed his eyes. “That turtle of his is a stick in the mud, but other than that, I’ve got no complaints.”

“How did you know who I meant?”

Guruko rolled onto his back and said, “We can smell him all over you.”

“I showered.”

“Why're you asking us?” Bisuke asked.

Pakkun laughed a wheezy dog-sigh. “‘Cause he’s too scared to ask _humans_ about love.”

Kakashi scowled and shook him off his feet and Guruko yelped, “Kakashi’s not scared of anything!”

“He’s scared of himself!”

“He’s scared of boys!”

The three of them howled and yipped laughing until Kakashi dissipated them and sat with his ears ringing in the crickety forest silence.

He didn’t know what he’d do with himself when he got home, so he walked around the village perimeter as the day waned, out by the narrow agricultural plots near the river. He didn’t know when he was supposed to see Gai again, or what he was supposed to do if their paths crossed in a non-social sense and there was a mission or something else he had to talk to him about. They hadn’t said anything concrete about what they were going to do, if there was a _them,_ an _us_. Going back that night seemed too soon, mostly because he was sure that if he spent another night at Gai’s apartment, he might never go back to his own.

He passed by a ramshackle butcher’s shop at the edge of a small hobby farm, then stopped, turned around and stepped inside to get something for dinner. A bell chimed above the door and a man called out from the back, “Just a sec!”

“Take your time,” Kakashi said. Slabs of meat sat in a refrigerated glass case. There wasn’t much else in the small room besides the case, the cloth-covered doorway to a back room and a wooden table with a memo pad, a cash box and a bright red portable radio on it.

The cloth swished as the butcher entered, wiping his hands on his apron. “Alright, sorry about that, what can I—” He stopped when he saw Kakashi. The young man wore a patterned bandana tied around his head and his thick, dark hair covered one eye. Kakashi knew him from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where. “Hokage-sama!”

Kakashi bit his cheek. “H’lo.” The young man bowed and he waved his hand at him. “No, no, it’s fine. Up. I’m just looking for a steak.”

“Of course! Just a moment, I’ll get you the best cut we have.” He disappeared when he ducked down and rummaged around in the case. “What brings you this far out, sir?”

“Just walking. It’s a nice area.”

The butcher hummed. “Yeah, it is. It’s great to be out of the hustle and bustle of the village centre, we’re really liking it.”

Kakashi got the impression that he was supposed to know this man.

“Of course. It takes its toll.”

“Absolutely. Especially after the war.” He popped back up. He must have been about Kakashi’s age, maybe slightly younger. “I’ve almost got some hanger steak ready in the back, if you’ve got a moment. I was just carving it up.”

“Sure.”

“Not to be presumptuous or anything, sir, but Kotetsu is in the paddock around back if you wanted to say hello. It’s been a while, you know, with everything, and I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Or I can holler if you’d rather he—”

_Izumo._ The butcher was Izumo Kamizuki. Kakashi felt awful.

“No, I’ll step out, you’re right. Thanks.”

Izumo nodded and smiled. “There’s a gate just around the left side, just lift up on the latch and follow the path.”

Kakashi followed the building around the left and passed through a tall, wooden gate that ran alongside it. His heart was in his throat for no good reason. He heard rustling and clucking and when he came around the side of the building, Kotetsu stood there in shorts and sandals throwing feed to a hoard of golden hens that pecked at his feet. His black hair was a haystack and he was slouching like he always did, but he stood up marginally straighter when he saw Kakashi.

“Kakashi-sensei.”

Kakashi raised a hand. “Hey.”

“What are you doing out this way?”

“Buying steak, I guess.” He wandered farther into the enclosure, minding the chickens. “Izumo said I should come out and say hello.”

Kotetsu rolled his eyes. “While he’s cutting you that hanger steak, right? He said he’d save it for us, so I knew he’d give it to the first _somebody_ who came by.”

“I don’t have to—”

“Nah, I’m just yanking your chain, don’t worry about it. That’s how he is.” Kotetsu threw a final handful of feed to the ground and stepped gingerly out from the circle of chickens. “How are things?”

“Good, good. Fine.” He burned to ask whether the two of them lived together. There was another floor above the butcher’s shop and a laundry line strung from an upstairs window to the top of a lean-to under which two black cows huddled. “How’s civilian life treating you?” he asked carefully.

“Couldn’t be better. The shop opened last year and it’s been alright. Not much else like it around here, so we sell whatever we don’t eat ourselves. Saves you more than you’d think, even, just making your own food.”

“Right.” Kakashi knew he was being awkward, he could _feel_ himself being awkward. If Gai hadn’t been on his mind all day, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but it was all he could think about. Were Kotetsu and Izumo _together?_ Had they ever been?

Kotetsu laughed. “You can ask.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re wondering if we live together and run the shop together, right?” He held up his hand and crossed his middle and index fingers together. Saying without saying.

Kakashi scratched his hair. “Uh. Maybe.”

He laughed again. “Everyone does, don’t worry about it. And—well, _you_ know.”

“I _know?”_

Kotetsu cocked his head. “I mean, I could be wrong, but … Wait, is it a criminal offense to ask a Hokage if he has a partner?”

Kakashi’s palms started to sweat. _“Uh—_ ”

“Because if it is, pretend that I didn’t. And if it isn’t, then I am.”

“What makes you think that …”

“Oh, come on, it’s not a science. If you knew about me and Izu, is it so weird that I’d know about you?”

The thought that he hadn’t been as opaque as he thought went off like an atom bomb in his head: _people know._ If Kotetsu knew, what stopped anyone else from knowing? Did he look at men differently than he looked at women? Were people already talking about him, did they _know_?

“Yes,” Kakashi said.

“Well, whatever, don’t answer, then. But to answer _your_ question—”

Kotetsu held up his left hand. There was a loop of black around his ring finger.

Kakashi squinted. “Is that … a tattoo?”

“Yeah. A wedding band.”

“Oh.” Kakashi didn’t move. He felt something he didn’t have words for, a twist of tension in his throat, numb hands. He started to say, “That's not …” and instantly regretted it, but Kotetsu just shrugged.

“Legal? No, but that's not important. It's symbolic. What does the Hokage’s office have to do with marriage, really? It’s got nothing to do with _love_ , that's for sure.”

Kakashi didn't know what to say and they stood there in another strange, tense silence, which Kotetsu seemed perfectly happy to do. He jammed his hands in his pockets and a chicken tried to squirm her way between his feet in her search for food.

“I … don't know if I could do that,” Kakashi said finally, halting and slow. It was admitting more than he ever planned to. He didn’t know what to make of Kotetsu’s expression: appraising, and maybe a little sad. He sighed.

“Well, with all due respect, I've got a husband, a bunch of chickens and five cattle, _Hokage-sama_. I’m not saying it's a competition, but if it were …”

“Enough. Point taken.”

“But I'm not saying it's the same situation, either.”

“Of course not.”

Kotetsu smiled, real, warm and still sad. “It’s not so easy to back out of being Hokage to be with your childhood sweetheart. It’s way easier when you're both a couple of two-bit border guards.”

“He's not my—” Kakashi stopped. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm not here for a lecture.”

“Of course not, sir.” Kotetsu gave him a sarcastic two-fingered salute. “Go on back in. Izumo’ll have your steak ready.”

Kakashi nodded, then turned around and headed back out the gate.

He made it until nightfall before going to Gai’s, even though he told himself not to. It felt like a failure on his part, a failure to not care, and it felt even worse when he scaled the building and Gai wasn’t home; his window was open a crack, it was dark inside and Kakashi couldn’t feel or smell his presence. He trudged home in a daze, trapped in his own head. It felt like a sign that Gai wasn’t home, like fate told him, _don’t do this, leave it be, he’ll understand, you can’t do this._

He thought about that all the way home, and he took the long way around. He thought about what a bad idea it was as he climbed the steps to his apartment: kissing Gai, sleeping with him, spilling his guts and staying the night, all of it, because caring about something was a dangerous liability and he couldn’t let anything happen to Gai or Konoha or anyone. He thought about it right up until the moment he stepped inside and saw Gai sitting at his kitchen table, looking extremely guilty.

“I … should have called ahead.”

Kakashi blanked. He hadn’t let go of the doorknob, he just stared and stared and stared.

“Hi.”

“You sound out of breath. Were you training?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have let myself in. I was taking a page from your book.”

“Have you been here long?”

“About ten minutes.”

The time it took to get from Gai’s to his.

“Right.”

Kakashi nudged the door shut and walked slowly towards Gai, not blinking, not anything. Gai looked terrified and started to get out his chair.

“I—I know you may have plans, and—and I know I’m not as cool and aloof as you, and it might have been better to give you time alone, but I—”

Kakashi pulled his mask down and in one fluid motion, he took Gai’s face in his hands and kissed him. He felt Gai’s eyelashes on his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut and neither of them moved, Gai halfway out of the chair, Kakashi bent over him. Gai slowly stood. When they broke the kiss, Kakashi bumped his forehead against his.

“I always hated that you were taller than me,” he whispered. “I never mentioned it because you’d chalk it up as another win.”

“It _is_ a win.”

“See?”

He brushed their lips together. Gai chuckled.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed me.”

“I shouldn’t have left this morning.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I wanted to talk to you, anyways, Kakashi. That’s why I’m here.” He motioned to the other chair at Kakashi’s table. “Sit, please.”

Kakashi’s stomach dropped like a stone. He sat, but not without pulling his mask back up. “What’s up?”

“I want to be upfront. I know you have a hard time talking about these things, so I thought: leave it to Maito Gai to help a friend and sort things properly and bravely _._ ” He put his hands on the table and looked at them instead of Kakashi; his usually charged banter was flat. “No matter what we choose to do next, I will always, _always_ cherish the memories of last night. But I would rather they not be the last memories we make together.”

“Gai …”

“Please, listen. I would be alright with this remaining a secret. I know you’re intense about your privacy and I can be another part of that, it’s nobody’s business but ours. If we don’t get to build a house and a family someday, then that’s—that’s the way it was meant to be. I accept that. I would rather give up those things than be in the winter of our lives before our time together can truly start.”

Gai sat ramrod straight with his hands folded on the table in front of him, like a schoolboy nervous about giving the wrong answer. Kakashi saw him last night, sweating and sobbing, braced above him and arching under him, and he couldn’t believe that all of these men were Gai.

Gai said, “I—I’m thoughtful and understanding, but I’m going to need you to say _something_ , Kakashi.”

Kakashi blinked to clear his eyes. He searched for something, anything, and landed on: “A family.”

For the first time since he could remember, he saw Gai, a man who had no shame, turn red. “I’ve said too much.”

“No, I just …” Kakashi shook his head and laughed. “I’d be a shitty father.”

“I think you’d be wonderful.”

“You’ve thought about what kind of father I’d be?”

Gai’s blush deepened. “Yes.”

Kakashi felt something in him change. Sasuke running errands in a bright orange t-shirt, Kotetsu with his golden hens and ring of ink, Gai sitting alone at his kitchen table waiting to tell him that he’d spend the rest of his life with him if he was allowed.

“I was at your apartment,” Kakashi said all at once.

“What?”

“That’s why I wasn’t at home, we left at the same time.”

Gai sat back. “Oh.”

Kakashi watched his hand creep across the table towards Gai’s, but it didn’t feel like it was his own. Gai’s fingers were ice cold when he laid his own on top of them and when he spoke, his own voice sounded far away.

“I don’t know how I should say this.”

“Give it your best shot.”

He took a deep breath and turned Gai’s hand over in his own, tracing lines in his palm to busy himself.

“The only thing I know for sure,” he said quietly, “is that you’re my person. Whatever that means, I’ve known it for a long time. Everything else, we can figure out as we go.”

In Kakashi’s bed, unlike the night before, they were both equally interested in going slow. Kakashi covered his face less often and let his hands smooth down Gai’s body, curves where his own had edges and planes. They came into each other’s fists because neither of them were willing to let the other go for long enough to make anything more complicated happen.

“And just think,” Gai said afterwards, lying with his head on Kakashi’s stomach, “how many more times we get to do that. What a beautiful world we live in, despite everything.”

“Paradise,” Kakashi sighed. He ran his hand through Gai’s hair, lifting the same part over and over again and watching it slip glossy black through his fingers. “Come up here a minute, I want to tell you something stupid.”

“Are you going to give two kind, sentimental statements in one night? Stop, my love, you’ll make yourself sick.” Gai sat up and laid back down with the tip of his nose nearly touching Kakashi’s. “What is it?”

Kakashi reached up and slid his palm over Gai’s cheek, rough with stubble so late at night, and touched his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. He spoke so quietly that no one but Gai could ever hear him.

“I could lie here for the rest of my life,” he whispered, “and I’d die happy.”

A sound woke Kakashi in the middle of the night. He rolled over and, in the light of the moon streaming in through the window, he saw Gai sitting up in bed next to him, wearing his mask. He blinked up at him.

“Uh.”

Gai pulled the mask down around his chin. “I wanted to see. It’s surprisingly breathable. I thought it would get moist.”

“Special material.”

“Fascinating.” He pulled it back up over his face. “It always astounded me how little it muffled your voice.”

“Special material,” Kakashi said again, rolling back over. “You can keep one if you want. For espionage. Or bad face days.”

“I thought the mask was connected to those high-collared shirts you wear.”

“I've got a few that aren't. For logistic reasons.”

He felt Gai shift around behind him. The comforter lifted and then settled back down, and Gai laid down next to him and tucked himself against Kakashi’s spine, his knees bent behind his, his face pressed to the back of his shoulders. He’d taken the mask off.

He said, “I’ll take a mask if you take a jumpsuit.”

“Yours wouldn’t fit me.”

“We can get one custom-made.”

“I’m good, but thank you.”

“You'll change your mind. They’ll show you how truly breathable a fabric can be and you'll be _dying_ to know where I get them done.”

He dropped a hand to Kakashi’s hip. Kakashi settled back into his body, and he’d never felt so solid and safe and strong in his life.

“Someday,” he sighed. “We’ve got time.”

 

 


End file.
